


Persephone, Homer and time

by UlsPi



Series: It's all Greek to me (that is, Ineffable) [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Aziraphale is Persephone, Crowley is Hades, Getting Together, Love at First Sight, M/M, but he's so much better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 19:27:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: "Give me the raspberries and the honey, give me the waves of the sea and the lake, give me the lewd movements of a young and mischievous spring, its cold waters and lingering touch, give me your naked shoulders and your bare back, give me your fingers touching the surface of the endless depths, give me the dolphins, the whales, the birds and the fish, the insects, the snakes and the lizards, give me your love and your tenderness and your fear, give it all to me, darling, dearest, love, and I'll never leave you. I have never left you."





	Persephone, Homer and time

Aziraphale loved his mother's garden. It had every possible plant of the Earth and some that only ever existed here. Unlike other gods, Aziraphale in general preferred a good story, a long walk in the garden and a well prepared meal. That day Aziraphale was standing under an apple tree admiring the fruit. The day was sunny, but most of the days were, which sometimes Aziraphale found rather exhausting and a bit artificial. He heard of rains and their importance for growth, but there were no rains in the garden, the mother wouldn't allow for it. He heard of clouds and their shapes and shades in the evening sun, but the mother only allowed darkness when she was cross. Clouds were considered a nuisance. Aziraphale read of fogs and rainbows, of wild rivers and the inhuman sea, but the closest he had ever been to any of those was when he met the respective deities and there were no deities of fogs. The existing deities never lived up to the stories of their rivers and seas. Light breeze was allowed, but Aziraphale read about hurricanes, about winds that carried ships across the sea. Of animals he knew so little that unless he had spotted a deer from afar or an occasional bird in the sky he wouldn't believe they existed. The stories about fish, birds, all creatures great and small were Aziraphale's favourites. He secretly wanted to meet a fox. All sorts of crawling, buzzing, venomous creatures were so vehemently rejected by the mother that Aziraphale never dared to ask what was so wrong about them. They all seemed quite interesting.

In rare moments of what he could only describe as sadness he felt he was missing something. The mother would look at him and say, "You have to grow up, Aziraphale, to want to leave. You can always leave, darling." She didn't seem sad or furious as she was when Aziraphale asked about snakes. Once he asked the mother about everything outside being interconnected and interdependent. She reminded him how he once had found a dead bird and spent many hours crying. "Until you can contemplate death, Aziraphale, you are unable to leave." The god of death never attended any feasts, and the memory of the dead bird was hurtful. He asked about the god of death, but was told that he kept almost always to himself and even his name had been forgotten. The mother had a few vague memories of him but his image had been lost in time. The very idea of loss of any kind was dreadful to Aziraphale. He couldn't part with a single thing in his life, with a single immortal tree, with any ever blooming flower. Reading numerous love stories, he wondered how anyone could choose changing, being in danger, dying, all for one person who had to mean so much that it frankly scared Aziraphale. Love affairs between gods were so messy Aziraphale pitied the humans for enjoying it so much. 

So that day Aziraphale was in the mood for admiring everything he had when he saw a shadow, and not a shadow from a tree, familiar and lovely, but a cool, formless, dark shadow, too long for this time of day. He looked up and saw a man-shaped being with long red hair falling in waves over the man's shoulders, sharp and angular, framing the handsome face, thin and delicate, with golden eyes, snake eyes Aziraphale realised, and a vaguely curious expression of the thin lips. The black robe covered most of the man's body. He was beautiful, Aziraphale had to give him that, but his beauty appeared fragile, he was too pale, too serene, or so he was before he gave Aziraphale a lopsided smile.

"Who… who are you?" Aziraphale felt scared by the man and drawn to him, both at the same time.

"I'm Crowley. I'm the god of death. Wanted to see your mother's garden, you know. I do love gardens." Aziraphale heard a subtle hiss in the man's words.

"How can you love gardens? You are destroying everything!" Aziraphale had imagined he'd be somewhat enchanted by the deity unseen for many generations, the one who, as he had heard, refused worship and sacrifices, but it turned out Aziraphale was so scared, he became angry.

"Laws of nature destroy everything, eventually. Even we will die someday."

"I will not! I'm a god and a child of a goddess."

"Oh, so you must be Aziraphale. You know, your mother and I are the only gods who remember the universe blowing up into existence. There have been countless generations of gods, uncountable generations of humans, all sorts of changes in the creatures who inhabit this planet. Isn't it scary that time is so long, and yet comes to an end? You can't even contemplate its beginning and before you do, it ends. That's what humans tell me. And animals. And plants… Here, there's no time, is it? Or it's so slow I'd be bored to death. Ironic, isn't it?"

"Get out of here! You are not welcome!"

"Your mother and I go a long way back. She wouldn't mind."

"You can't be friends with the goddess of life. She would never…"

"You are boring, you know. I mean, you are not, usually, I can see that, but you're choosing to be boring. Why would you?"

"To you life must appear boring." 

"You are so angry with me… Well… your mother and I are not friends. We just share the oldest memory there is."

"She's not old."

"She's not. She doesn't like time. I adore it. I'll leave you, timeless god… What are you the god of again?"

"I'm not a god of anything. I mean, I was…"

"And what? Couldn't do any work?"

"I gave it away, my duties, I mean."

"You what? Don't you want to be worshipped and suchlike?"

"It's… bothersome. And Gabriel wanted to be the god of just war. I see no justice in war, so I gave it away."

"Why, now you are interesting. So averse to death, so modest… how come the son of the goddess of life got such dreadful duty?"

Aziraphale couldn't help talking to Crowley, so much so in fact, that he had forgotten his anger. 

"She wanted me to be invincible and just. I read a lot and studied a lot, and I came to realise that to be just you have to be uninvolved."

"You are very interesting, Aziraphale. Tell your mother I sent her my respect."

Crowley turned into a giant snake and crawled away. 

When the mother heard of Crowley's visit, she became wistful. "I do miss him sometimes, you know. So… curious, so thorough…"

"He told me you didn't like him."

"I don't. I can still respect him, darling."

***

Aziraphale walked out of the garden and walked down to the sea. It was all Crowley's fault. He grew restless, irritated, terribly curious, and he knew the sea was just a short walk from the garden's Eastern gate. 

It was as beautiful as Crowley, he thought, breathless, and bit his lip. Crowley was indeed the most beautiful… thing… phenomenon he had seen, and he only understood it standing by the sea, listening to the waves, watching the silky surface of the water, a promise of endless depths in every movement. Seagulls screamed and searched for fish, and before long Aziraphale became a witness to many a death, which somehow didn't bother him. Far away a whale jumped out of the waters and crashed back with happy and content splash.

"Hello, Aziraphale." The soft voice greeted and Aziraphale turned around to see Crowley. He grinned, mischievous and sardonic, and walked down to the water, burying his bare feet in the sand. 

"It tickles. Wanna try?" He extended his hand and Aziraphale found himself taking it and walking a few steps into the water. "I think sandals need to go. May I?" He was kneeling before Aziraphale could nod and took Aziraphale's sandals off. "Now it will tickle more. But I think it's rather… lovely, you know." Crowley held the sandals in his long, thin fingers.

"It does, yes… it's pleasant."

"You haven't swam yet, Aziraphale. I think I will go for a swim." A shrug of his shoulders and he was shamelessly naked and gently putting Aziraphale's sandals on the sand, Crowley walked into the water, spreading his arms, hands softly touching the waves.

"You are naked!"

Crowley turned to him and looked a bit surprised. "Of course I am. That's the whole point. What's wrong with nakedness anyway?"

Aziraphale frankly didn't see anything wrong with nakedness, but Crowley's nakedness had to be wrong, it made Aziraphale… light-headed. Crowley dove in and emerged in a few seconds, laughing, his hair sticking to his head. He made a strange, peculiar sound and a dolphin came rushing to him. Crowley caressed its fins, bumped his sharp nose into the dolphin's… 

"You've been eating well, my friend." Crowley cooed. "How is the family… oh… really? So glad to hear it. May I visit?"

He turned to Aziraphale again. "I want to swim with her. Care to join?"

"I can't swim."

"I can. Meelee can."

"I don't think that's enough, to be honest."

"Well… as you wish, timeless god."

Aziraphale had no intention of waiting for Crowley but he ended up watching the sunset and very much waiting for Crowley to come back. He walked out of the water just as the last rays disappeared into the sea.

"Been waiting for me, Aziraphale? You really shouldn't have."

"I was worried about you! You just disappear and…"

"I'm a god, Aziraphale. I can't drown. Meelee wouldn't let me drown either."

"Do they know who you are?"

"Of course they do. They are animals, they can feel me from afar. But you see, the thing with death is that it's often about fear. When I befriended them, they stopped fearing me. I didn't come to kill them, and now they are much calmer… I have seas down there, you know. And gardens." 

"I should get back. Mother would be angry."

"Sure. I'll get back too." 

***

"Where have you been, darling?" Asked the mother. Aziraphale told her everything. She smiled and caressed his cheek. 

"The first generation of gods and humans alike considered it fortunate to be favoured by the god of death. Maybe he's not as… strange as I remember him. Certainly I could never expect anyone to see him so beautiful…"

"I didn't say he was!"

"Oh darling… you have such open, honest face, your eyes reflect everything, just like a forest lake on a sunny day."

***

Aziraphale hardly ever slept, and if he did it was a calm and dreamless slumber, but when he fell asleep under the apple tree he dreamed of Crowley and he woke up in tears, angry with himself, angry with Crowley who must have wanted to change him, to drag him into time, into cruelty, into the shadows. Yet his dreams had none of those, they were sunny and tender, the light played on Crowley's freckled shoulders and down his back. 

Aziraphale decided he wanted to see a forest lake. It was morning outside of the garden. He walked out of the Eastern gate again and turned towards a forest not far away. The fog covered the ground, the air was cool and fresh. It was pleasant to breathe it. The clouds seemed inspired and build impossible temples in the sky. Aziraphale took a deep breath and thought he had never felt so happy, so calm, so content. He admired a fallen tree, countless insects and little animals and various fungi finding life and nutrition in its death. He wasn't perturbed or sad to discover a dead fox, insects and scavengers feasting on it. Soon it would become part of the soil, and from its remains new life would spring out. He saw a wolf chasing a deer, and somehow accepted it as well. Besides, the deer escaped and the wolf was hungry. Aziraphale felt sorry for it, and hated himself for it. 

There was a lake, blue, calm, gentle, like a sleepy lover, like an affectionate spouse. Aziraphale disrobed and walked into the water letting it carry him. It wasn't all that difficult to swim, it turned out, and Aziraphale spent several hours doing just that, unable to satisfy the sudden urge for movement, for the soft touch of water on his skin. It felt like he had been covered in kisses, held tight, whispered sweet nothings to. He walked out smiling and saw Crowley under a nearby pine talking to a nightingale on his hand.

"No way!.. After everything you said? Well, I guess he's just a hopeless idiot and not worth your while… No, it's not your time yet. I don't accept offerings, Aidoni, you know that… of course there will always be a place for you in the shadow halls, but there's a place for everyone, as you know. I'm very… you know… cruel and destructive and therefore entirely just… oi, don't argue with me… Aidoni! I'm not nice! I'm the god of death, for my own sake."

The nightingale chirped and flew away. Crowley stayed there, smiling, never turning his head to Aziraphale.

"So, you like swimming now… It's good for you. Want something to dry yourself with?"

"I… I have my robe. It's quite enough. Thank you."

"There are wild raspberries a short walk away. Would you like me to show you the way?"

Aziraphale froze, still wet and naked. Raspberries were his favourite. He could never have enough of those.

"Or I could find you some honey, if you want."

Aziraphale decided he didn't have to choose, so Crowley took him to the place where the raspberries grew, and then Crowley calmly put his hand into a beehive and drew some honey out of it.

"Ssshhhh… it's for a friend. I don't take much, never would… unless your honey is bad. Then I'll take everything and you'll only make new down in my forests." Crowley took a stick from the ground and wiped his hand and handed the stick to Aziraphale. He then licked his fingers with his forked tongue and hummed approvingly. "Delicious, Aziraphale. You should try it… Oh…"

"What?"

"You… you have raspberry juice around your lips…" Crowley lifted his hand and immediately dropped it. His tongue wetted his dry lips and hid itself in Crowley's mouth. Aziraphale had an image of a thought, no, a shadow, a long shadow of a thought, the one where Crowley wiped and kissed his lips. "Wipe your mouth, Aziraphale, you are not Dionysus, you can't look so debauched."

"I've never tried wine…"

"Next time we meet, I'll treat you to some. Promise. Now, will you be able to find your way back?"

Aziraphale could, but he didn't admit it, even to himself, and Crowley walked him back.

The mother asked nothing and looked worryingly knowing. She smiled softly. "My boy… all grown up. You are older than me now, darling. I could never accept a forest…"

***

He walked out of the Eastern gate and headed for the green hills. A river rushed and twisted and curled around and in between them, and Aziraphale found its movement lewd and suggestive. But the water, the blessed water looked so inviting, and Aziraphale dove into it. 

It was cold, much colder than the sea or the lake, and it didn't tickle or kissed his soft round body, but he welcomed the needles of it just as well. Yet, when he finally climbed out of the river he was shivering, and his robe didn't warm him, and he regretted ever leaving the garden.

"Aren't you just stupid?" Said Crowley's voice in the dark. He quickly started a fire and pulled Aziraphale to sit closer to it. "Fire can be immortal, Aziraphale… but it needs food. It's just like you, I think." He handed Aziraphale a goblet. "I promised you wine." He got up and moved farther from Aziraphale.

"Why can't you sit next to me?"

"You are… burning me, Aziraphale. Please don't be stupid again." 

And Crowley disappeared.

***

Aziraphale didn't want to return to the garden. Instead he walked to the nearest village, and miracled himself some gold. Reading proved to be useful, he rather liked paying for a room, getting settled in a soft bed. He slept well, and he would soon learn that wine made sleep easier, but only in the right amount. Otherwise he would wake up with a headache. 

He learned. He became a carpenter, and then a smith, and then a sculptor and then a poet. Time was still unnoticeable to him, and he traveled a lot, and Crowley never showed up. He couldn't count the years but he could tell there were many. When he came back, the mother said nothing and smiled. Aziraphale told her about his masters, about their deaths, good and bad, about their memories, their art, their lives, about lively cities and quiet villages. About kings who had fought for Aziraphale's love and he couldn't tell it had been love until their dying hour. About delicious food and wicked wine. About death and cruelty and unrest and wars and needless suffering. 

"You are a god, darling, it's just another story for you but there's so much suffering… I can't understand how you bear it."

"I don't. I suffered with them, and I couldn't understand any of it, but… but I felt alive."

"You can allow yourself the luxury of it, darling… you are so old now. Not a wrinkle on your kind, round face, but you are so old… my brave darling."

Having seen the real gardens, the ones that required hard work and tender care, Aziraphale couldn't stay in the garden for long. No garden was complete without buzzing and time that took away the bloom to return it later, after a season of rest, of stubborn, resilient sleep. 

***

He walked out of the Eastern gate and turned to the sea. He sat by the water and waited. He wrote letters in the sand, he yearned for Crowley to appear and listen to his stories. Then, after a few years, he realised that Crowley had known it all. So Aziraphale cried and called out and swam with the dolphins and weeped for his early days, without time or death. 

"Being an idiot again, aren't you, Aziraphale?"

"Crowley!.. oh gods… I've been looking for you! There's so much I want to tell you!"

"Tell me then. _ Tell me about a complicated man. Muse, tell me how he wandered and was lost. _ "

So he did. 

"Oh Aziraphale… oh dearest friend, what have you done to yourself? What have you seen?" Crowley wept, his tears as golden as his eyes.

"You told me yourself…"

"I know what I told you. The way you are telling it… it's so human. So heartbreaking. My sweet wonderful friend, what have I done to you?" Crowley moved to run away, then stopped.

"When we met, when you got so angry with me, I thought I'd drag you to my halls, to my kingdom, thrust the time upon you so that you can see it, but I could never do it, my spoiled, sweet, dutiless god… oh, what have you done to yourself?"

"Crowley…"

"What?!"

"When they tried to kill me during that terrible war, was it you..?"

"Of course it was me! Shut up! Go back to your garden, your songs, your craft. Go and be happy, you immortal bastard. I can never forgive myself for what I've done to you. Never wanted it, never truly wanted it."

***

Aziraphale walked out of the garden for the last time, that much he knew. When heartbroken Crowley, tired of sobs and shame, fell asleep next to a fire that Aziraphale had built, Aziraphale looked at him. His sleep was restless and timelessly long. No one died during his sleep, and many an old person begged for death. Aziraphale kept his watch, rejoicing in Crowley's beauty and singing about it. Then he too was tired and fell asleep next to Crowley. Having woken up, he saw that Crowley had left, so he looked for him. The mother came to him once in his dreams and just smiled. He woke up calm and went to the sea. Meelee was old, so impossibly old, and Aziraphale asked her to take him with her.

***

It was all gray and cool. Children's shadows ran around laughing, playing, happy. Whales and gorillas, birds and insects swam and walked and flew and crawled in the shadowy seas and forests and gardens. It all looked strange. It all looked strangely alive, or rather not dead in the way Aziraphale thought of death. He met many a friend, and went swimming with them, in the long dead waters of the long dead seas, lakes and rivers, he drank their wine and ate their honey, and they remembered their old days, their adventures and misadventures. He met Gabriel, long dead and forgotten, the younger gods having replaced him. He met Aidoni and that river he once had dived into. Those raspberries he wanted Crowley to kiss away from his lips. They all spoke of their wise and kind king who had not been seen for what seemed like eons. "He is hiding in his palace," they said. "He's lonely. He's in love. He hates himself."

Crowley's kingdom was much larger than any kingdom of the Earth, than the Earth itself, so Aziraphale traveled and searched for quite a while. Sometimes he regretted everything, sometimes he found himself by the exit, no shadow brave enough to stop him, sometimes he could see the king's palace from afar and rushed to it only to discover that it moved faster than he ever could. 

And yet one shadowy, foggy, cloudy morning, lit by a long dead star in the long dead skies, Aziraphale walked into an apple orchard, exactly like the one of the mother and plucked a gray and white apple and brought it to his lips. 

A sinewy hand stopped him.

"What in the name of sanity are you doing?" Asked Crowley. Aziraphale's heart jumped and then settled in his soft and warm body like Aziraphale had done once, in his very first bed.

"Eating the apple, just like I wanted when we met."

"No! You've eaten and drunk enough in here, but this apple is mine, is me, so don't you dare. You'll never go home, Aziraphale. Don't."

Aziraphale smiled at him, rejoiced in his form, his shadow, his kind, beautiful eyes, his sharp and handsome face, his long red hair. He grabbed Crowley's wrist and thus brought the fruit to his mouth once again and carefully bit into the apple, so that not to bite Crowley's fingers. Crowley screamed and wailed, and Aziraphale chewed on the fruit, the most wonderful one, the sweetest he could ever have tasted. He sucked Crowley's fingers into his mouth, swallowed and looked up at him.

"Give me the raspberries and the honey, give me the waves of the sea and the lake, give me the lewd movements of a young and mischievous spring, its cold waters and lingering touch, give me your naked shoulders and your bare back, give me your fingers touching the surface of the endless depths, give me the dolphins, the whales, the birds and the fish, the insects, the snakes and the lizards, give me your love and your tenderness and your fear, give it all to me, darling, dearest, love, and I'll never leave you. I have never left you."

Crowley dropped to his knees and covered his face.

"What about your garden, Aziraphale? What about…"

"Nothing is ever about anything, my love, unless you are there. Let me stay, sweet one, beloved. Let me stay with you."

***

All through the kingdom, all through the endless universe of dead planets and stars and seas and creatures, all through the world of both the living and the dead, it was told and everyone heard that the king and his poet were married and would rule together until the end of the world and then some.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I'd love to know what you think.


End file.
